


The Drums of Yuletide

by Fadesintothewest



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fadesintothewest/pseuds/Fadesintothewest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little late to posting (lack of internet access) but since it still is the season (three kings day), I thought it still appropriate to post.  A little story I wrote (back in the day) offering a glimpse into the Silvan Midwinter's festival and accompanying traditions. Fluff and fun accompanied by a merry cast of characters!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Drums of Yuletide

** The Drums of Yuletide! **

During the first heavy winter snows the roots of the hill where the Elvenking’s Halls were nestled, would settle and create deep rumbling sounds, signaling to all--elves and creatures --that _Ennor_ was settling for the slumber of deep winter. And so the _Tawarwaith_ , the elves of the forest, began preparing for the midwinter festival. Unlike Imladris, the folk of the Wood had no ring of power to keep the passing of the seasons at bay, but that suited them for the wood folk were kin to _Ennor_ , tied in thought and being to this middle earth. The wood folk, though called less wise by those who knew not much believed in the power of their Wood and kept to the ways of Awakening, the knowledge handed down when the Quendi first awoke in Cuiviénen. The _Tawarwaith_ were not without their own magic, a fey green magic, _faer laeg,_ the spirit of the woods, though conjuring earthen magic was taking more and more of the collective will of the Wood for darkness had come upon these lands.  And it took a heavy toll on its King.

Indeed, the Elvenking, the _Aratuar,_ the King of the Wood, Thranduil was known under many titles to many peoples, led his people though dark times. The Wood became known as _Taur-nu-Fuin_ , the forest under nightshade, which Men referred to as Mirkwood, but Silvan spirit and tenacity would not keep the wood folk from celebrating the turning of the season, the coming solstice where the earth would turn from slumber to the longer days of fertility and growing. The _Iarwain_ , a council of the eldest, those that awoke and were born by the shores of Cuiviénen led the preparations keeping the ancient traditions alive. Folks from far and wide made the arduous journey to partake in the solstice ceremonies for the wood folk were famous for their festivities. The midwinter reminded all the elven kins of their shared origins and the times served to renew bonds. It was the time of the midwinter festival in the Wood and the merry folk of the woodland realm were making ready!

)()()()(

The deep rumbling sounds of the large drums echoed throughout the Elvenking’s cavernous keep. The pulsating rythym guided the merry makers as they danced in honor of the winter solstice.  As the drums beat the dancers performed a joyous and playful dance where males and females vied for dominance.  The male elves wore holly in their hair symbol of their immortal fate, and the women wore ivy necklaces celebrating fertility. During the dancing, the maidens would sing,

 

“ _Ivy, ivy, I love you,_

_In my bosom I put you,_

_The first young [Elf] who speaks to me,_

_My future husband he shall be_ ” [1]

 

To which the males responded

“ _Like the garlands in my hair,_

_Holly shall forever be,_

_As my love to thee!”_

And so the winter solstice celebrated the renewal of life, the rite of fertility, so fiercely defended by the wood folk in these times of Shadow.

Legolas jumped merrily in an out of the crowd, jingling as he went.  Woven throughout his hair was not only holly, but also small bells that created the most pleasant of jingles.  Legolas was not alone in his bodily décor as it was a Silvan tradition to celebrate the Solstice with as much noise and merry making as possible.

Bodies swayed and jumped in rhythm with the mighty drums, aided by the delightful voices of minstrels who had indulged in a lovely and floral dessert wine. One elf was trying to lean inconspicuously against the stone walls which were layered in rich tapestries and evergreen garlands inlaid with dried spring buds, holly and ivy.  The elf admired the lovely smell of the décor but he was a little hesitant to join the Wood Elves in their merry dancing. The elf contemplated the mass of bodies converging in the large hall.  The great hearth at the end of the hall was ablaze with a roaring fire, which added its own voice to the music.  Surrounding the area where the dancers converged were small trees, potted in large earthen containers.  In the trees were hundreds of candles whose warmth caused a sweet fragrance to emit from the delicate leaves.

“It is amazing the entire hall does not catch on fire,” the solitary elf thought aloud.  Watching the revelry, the elf nearly let out a shout as a wayward dancer almost tumbled onto a tree next to him.  “Oh no!” the elf exclaimed , “these wood elves are going to be the death of me.” The elf, who wore an elegant robe of velvet in the deepest of purples, covered his eyes, hoping that if he did not observe it, imminent disaster would be avoided.  The elf breathed in deeply to calm his nerves, but was rudely interrupted by the deliberate jingling of bells in his face.

“There is only one elf in all of Arda who would do such a thing,” the elf announced icily. 

“And this elf says that you, P-e-r-e-d-h-i-l,” a deep voice announced, stretching out Elrond’s title, “need to join in the fray. Here have some wine!” And with that Glorfindel sloppily handed Elrond a glass full of the sweet dessert wine, of Silvan make, and traditionally consumed during the Silvan season of Yuletide. Glorfindel swung his arm over Elrond’s shoulder, and leaning heavily into him, whispered, “Remember you are here to enjoy yourself!”

Elrond smelled the strong presence of the sweet wine on Glorfindel’s breath, and realized that Glorfindel was now leaning on him for balance.  Recognizing Glorfindel’s predicament, Elrond let out a hearty laugh, “The mighty Balrog slayer is rendered useless by mere Silvan wine?”

Glorfindel furrowed his eyebrows as best he could, but the result was more comical as his muscles were not cooperating. Elrond slapped his knee with his free hand and doubled over laughing.  It had been too long since he had seen Glorfindel so inebriated.

Glorfindel realized Elrond was laughing at his expense. “You!” Glorfindel shouted, pointing at the Noldo. Elrond looked up towards the Balrog slayer, trying to contain the laughter that still consumed him. “Yes you Half Elven, drink that glass in your hand!” Glorfindel demanded.

Elrond obliged and sipped the wine, which was indeed deliciously sweet.

“No!!” Glorfindel bellowed becoming more of a belligerent drunkard than an amusing one, “Drink it all!”

Elrond noticed that a curious audience surrounded the two and in the crowd were his sons who now cheered, “Drink!”

Legolas who was also gathered to partake of the spectacle motioned to the Silvan drummers to start up a merry and pulsating tune worthy of taking in drink. The Silvan fiddles blazed a fiery tune, accompanied by the boom, boom of the rustic drums. Legolas began to jump merrily about the crowd, shouting, “Drink, drink, drink!”

Soon Elladan and Elrohir joined Legolas jumping and shouting, “Drink!”

Glorfindel somehow found his legs again and joined the ruckus.

Elrond noted that it was probably the newly filled glass in Glorfindel’s hand that renewed his spirits.  Elrond shook his head in mock disapproval and raised his goblet to the crowd which elicited a hearty roar of approval, and soon after that the lore master was gulping the sweet wine, which went down a little too easily.  The crowd erupted in more merry madness and began singing a hearty song that celebrated the season. Elrond felt warmth begin to emanate from his belly and looked sadly into his empty goblet, wishing to taste more of that fine drink, and to Elrond’s delight, his goblet was soon filled with the dessert wine once more.

“Thank you Thranduil,” Elrond acknowledged his gracious pourer.  “Does this wine pour so freely year round?”

“Oh goodness no Elrond, now imagine that!  No, no, the wine is made from the berries of a tree that begins to bloom during the time of the winter solstice.  At the end of the winter we gather these berries and prepare this lovely drink you have before you.  It is not ready to drink until the following winter.”

“Ah,” Elrond noted, “Now I understand the sweetness of the wine.  The berries must be so dried by the winter weather, they retain a high sugar content, but ‘tis not all in this process.  I know enough that these berries are probably fermented in small barrels made of, mmm, white oak, of course,” Elrond noted smugly.

Thranduil slapped the lord of Imladris heartily on his back, “Only you and my kinsman Celeborn have such a knowledgeable palate.”

“But tell me Thranduil, what is the ingredient you add.  I cannot put my finger on it,” Elrond mused as he finished his now third glass of the wine.

“Ah dear Elrond, though you are known as the master of all lore, this tad bit of knowledge I must say is a secret.  I myself learned of it only after I became king.  It is a highly regarded secret amongst the wood elves.”

Elrond noted that Thranduil sobered upon mentioning this last bit of information.  “Oropher, this was his favorite holiday was it not?”

Thranduil nodded as he looked at the hall full of merry makers.

Elrond raised his glass, “To Oropher then and his love of life and good times, and to our beloveds who cannot share these times with us!”

Thranduil was caught off guard by Elrond’s gesture, but gladly raised his glass to his father and departed wife, “To Oropher, an elf who enjoyed only the best of wines and to our dearest loves!” And with that the two elves drank merrily into the night, Thranduil soon managing to see that Elrond was dancing the night away.

In another corner of a large hall, Glorfindel was leaning against another wall.

“You do enjoy holding up the walls in my Adar’s halls.  Do not worry Glorfindel, this solid hill will not come down on you,” Legolas chided the elder elf.  Legolas positioned himself so he stood mere inches from Glorfindel

Glorfindel raised a single eyebrow at the younger elf. “You think I am done in for the evening?”

Legolas shrugged and raised his own eyebrow in response to the other.   As Glorfindel managed to straighten himself up from off the wall, Legolas, attempting to take advantage of Glorfindel’s state, pushed heavily on Glorfindel's shoulder, trying to topple him over, but the Balrog slayer did not budge, nay not even an inch. He gifted the young elf with a wicked smile and whispered into Legolas’ ear, “You will have to try better than that sweet prince.”

“Try, you say,” Legolas responded, “pray tell, how can I try better?”

Glorfindel threw his head back and laughed, then with all his might pushed Legolas, causing him to topple backwards and land solidly on his backside.

Legolas sat on the floor looking startled.

Glorfindel was now dancing merrily to the deep beat of the dreams and accompanying fiddles, laughing at the prince’s oh so misfortunate accident.

Legolas was not to be out done and in one swift graceful move swung his leg out from under him, catching Glorfindel’s feet and throwing them out from under him.  Legolas spun upward in a balletic move.  Now he was staring down at the golden haired Noldo who was sprawled out on his back.

Glorfindel swiftly jumped to his feet and dusted himself off, throwing a dagger like glare the Prince’s way, the adrenaline delaying the effects of his inebriated state.

Legolas simply shrugged his shoulders and grabbed the hand of a very pretty maiden kissing it softly and seductively, all the while locking eyes with Glorfindel.  “Shall we dance,” Legolas purred in the ear of his blushing companion.  The maiden nodded demurely, batting her lashes towards the Prince that now swept her away amidst the many bodies of the dancers.  Legolas toyed with his partner’s necklace of ivy, singing softly into the beautiful Silvan maiden’s delicate ears, “ Ivy, ivy, I love you, In this _bosom_ I put you, The first young _maiden_ who _plays with_ me, My _solstice lover she_ shall be", to which the young maiden responded, not to be outdone, “Like the garlands in _your_ hair, holly shall _this evening_ be, as my _lust for_ thee.”

Glorfindel straightened his hair out and smiled evilly in the direction of the Prince.

“What do you think he intends to do,” Elladan asked his brother.

“When it comes to Glorfindel, expect anything,” Elrohir added, “and let us make sure we are not around when it does.”

“Agreed, now let us go find some delightful company!”

And so the handsome raven haired twins found equally beautiful maidens who were clearly willing to provide the kind of delightful company the two sought.  Soon the two couples were caught up in the playful but suggestive dance of the winter solstice. 

Legolas led his partner from the dance floor, casually glancing around him, looking for a conspiring Glorfindel.  Fortunate for him, Legolas thought, Glorfindel was no where to be seen. “Shall we my lady,” Legolas whispered as he pressed his lips against the young maiden’s neck.

“We shall,” the dark haired elf named Rhîwen replied, pressing her hands suggestively on Legolas’ lower abdomen.  This elicited a large and voracious smile on the part of Legolas.  The two snuck out into the night where they were greeted by falling snow.

“See my lady, the wood spirits themselves have seen to it that we have a fresh and white bed on which to lie,” Legolas whispered hungrily into his companions ear, allowing his breath to linger on the sensitive tips.

“Yes, my lord, what better way to celebrate _rhîw_ ’s [winter’s] renewal than by honoring the ancient ways.  On this night may you serve your Silvan heritage.”

“Rhîwen, maiden of winter, I will honor thee tonight, beneath the stars of Elbereth,” Legolas spoke softly caressing his partner’s cheeks.

Soon the two were lost in a kiss, with nothing more than a cloak serving as a barrier from the snow beneath them. 

“My lord,” Rhîwen breathed heavily…

Legolas put his hand on her lips, “Legolas, my lady, simply Legolas.”

Legolas hands deftly maneuvered the many buttons that impeded his way towards territories he longed to touch and kiss.  He felt not the cold as his body was consumed in the fires of passion.  He felt nimble fingers doing the same and soon the two lovers found their paths unobstructed and free to explore with hungry kisses.

Rhîwen held a piece of holly and ivy in her hands and crushed the leaves between her fingers and whispered the ancient words that hearkened to their Avari origins, “Life anew, I share with you.” And so the two were as one on a winter’s night, and the stars they twinkled as if delighting in the joy of the Firstborn. [2]

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [1] The line recited by the maidens is not of my own making, but a traditional saying concerning the use of ivy and women in Christmas lore. I simply changed a word from man to Elf! The male response is however, wholly my own. But the idea that holly represents immortality is not, as an evergreen, it has represented immortality in many cultures. Here’s a great tad bit of information concerning holly and what else, Elves! “Holly was taken into homes when winter began to shelter the elves and fairies who could live with mortals at this time without causing injury (maybe they get trodden on at other times?). Holly was regarded as an excellent form of protection for all manner of things but specifically against evil spirits, poisons, thunder and lightning.”
> 
>  
> 
> [2] I would like to point out that having Silvan practices with Avari origins is not an original idea of mine. There are many fanfic authors out there that delve deeply into this idea.


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